The Unknown Threat
by ShadowofStarlight2
Summary: There has always been a certain mystique about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Even Potter himself can't imagine all the threats to his life out there. Now it's up to a girl named Bianca, a girl he barely knows, to save him from a threat he knows not of
1. Family Ties

_"Family life is too intimate to be preserved by the spirit of justice. It can be sustained by a spirit of love which goes beyond justice."_

-**Reinhold Niebuhr**

My whole life I have been fascinated with Harry Potter, that enigmatic hero of the wizarding world. Our house was no stranger to the rumors that surrounded the child who single-handedly brought down the Dark Lord whose name is still avoided by witch and wizard alike. I have read many books about him, written by wizards who could only theorize what happened and perhaps why. It was a confusing study as many books contradicted each other . Some even contradicted themselves in their lines of thought. None could really be deemed any more valid then the last, and yet, each in turn piqued my curiosity.

My desire to find out more about Harry Potter was certainly a draw to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry though it was not the sole reason I was attending there. Hogwarts was the school where my sister was currently attending as well as where my parents attended. Our family had been going to Hogwarts for many generations. I was delighted to be going to Hogwarts with my sister. I had idolized her for a long time though she never seemed too terribly fond of me.

I was sorted into Hufflepuff, the same house as my sister. It was little surprise to me. Both my parents had been Hufflepuffs. My father had been the only Hufflepuff in his family, however my mother could trace her lineage all the way back to Helga Hufflepuff, the house's founder. Because of this, I loved my house and it filled me with the greatest sense of pride.

I was absolutely thrilled to share the same common room and dormitories with my sister. Unsurprisingly, she failed to share that sentiment. The most attention I got from her was a stern reprimand my first night at Hogwarts that I was never ever to touch her trunk. If I ever did, a severe curse would be sure to follow, she told me. She had been like that for as long as I could remember- very protective of her stuff. Her friends were somewhat kinder and, at least, acknowledged me as her kin with a flippant wave or pat on the head when they would see me.

Now, don't get me wrong, my sister was never outright mean to me. She just, sort of, ignored me most of the time. She was only harsh when I would intrude upon that which she held dear, that which she felt the need to guard... It never seemed quite fair though. Some things she did, in fact, hold inside herself, granting none the privilege to see or hear or know, but it seemed as if, not only did she seek to bar me from those secrets, but from her life completely.

Still, I idolized her. She was quite beautiful with sandy hair that fell in long languid curls about her shoulders. She was tall and thin and her face was graced with beautiful hazel eyes of lightest gold . She had long legs and a lithe graceful frame. Everything about her resembled our mother. I was less blessed it seemed with the darker more generic features of our father. My hair was a chestnut brown and lay flat and straight against my head. As such I always kept it in a tight plait. Few souls had ever seen it down. My eyes were a deep, dark brown with little other color to them. To me, my sister was the epitome of beauty, everything I wasn't.

She was my epitome of smarts at the time, as well. Her marks in class were always exemplary, and my parents never wavered in their praise of her. There was also this mysterious enigmatic quality about my sister. It drew me to her like it drew me to Harry Potter. It left my mind to speculate and theorize as it would. no thought, no theory was too absurd because nothing was known. Nothing definitive. Between my sister and Harry Potter, I knew my time at Hogwarts would be the best time of my life.


	2. Blood and Connections

_The great and glorious masterpiece of  
man is to know how to live to purpose._**  
Michel de Montaigne**

With my sister's diassociation with me, however, I was forced to find friends elsewhere. I had at first decided that I would seek out the famous Harry Potter and his friends. My plan, of course, had several flaws. After all, they were so much older than I, and the school so large that I rarely ever even saw them. I never got the chance to solicit their friendship.

Due to such a single-minded pursuit at friendship, I was alone for quite some time. That is, until I met Willow. She was of my year but in Slytherin. We met in the library. I was sitting alone, perusing books defining and describing the events which had transpired between He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the ever famous Harry Potter, a stack of books that might be useful for my actual homework untouched in a stack a little ways off when she came.

She dropped a large stack of books on the table with an agitated sigh a little ways away from me, ignoring a stern reproach from the Librarian. One could not help but look at her. She seemed almost determined to make her presence felt. She caught my eye and scrutinized me for a moment but I turned my head somewhat awkwardly back to my book. I breathed a sigh of relief when at last she seemed to decide to ignore me.

When I had finished my casual reading, I looked at my stack of school books with disdain and stole a glance at her stack. For almost every class that Hogwarts offered she seemed to have a big thick book for it. The book she was consumed by at that moment was a large volume titled 'Botany and Herbology _For the Experienced Wizard_' .

As I mouthed the title to myself in a moment of curiosity, she turned her head toward me,silently staring at me, waiting for me to notice her. When I finally realized this, I gave an awkward 'hello', but she sat silent for several moments, scrutinizing me, before she replied. 'My books intrigue you? Well it is true, I do have excellent taste.'

Not terribly sure how to respond, I managed to stutter out that my name was Bianca Endle. Her eyes glimmered for a moment and a small, intrigued smile crossed her lips. 'Endle?' she repeated. 'Related, by any chance, to the great Alura Endle, the witch who managed to successful stun and disarm thirteen grown wizards with a single spell?'

I shifted a bit uneasily. It wasn't exactly a proud moment in our family history. Many generations ago, Alura had been a famous potions master in the wizarding community. She was unusual in the fact that she didn't just sell potions to wizards but also to wanting muggles. But the potions she sold to the muggles always had ghastly side effects. A potion that was meant to make a bald man's hair grow would make him grow a coat of fur from his shoulders to his waist. A potion that was meant to cure a child's fever would cure her but turn her face a bright blue for several weeks for no other reason than Alura's own, selfish amusement. She loved watching the muggles run around like chicken's with their heads cut off due to various ailments and conditions that she caused.

One day she was asked by a desperate muggle woman to make her a love potion. The potion Alura made for her was, indeed, a very potent love potion. But, of course, it had a side effect. The love potion made all the men in the town fall in love, but not with the poor muggle woman. They all became, instead, enamored with Alura herself.

Infuriated, the muggle woman relayed the story to her sister who in turn told her husband. What neither of them knew, however, was that the muggle woman's sister's husband was, in reality, a wizard. Intent on defending the muggle woman's honor, he called together several of his wizard friends and they marched on Alura to end her torturous games.

Alura was a proud woman and, when they reached her house, she met them at the door with a wand and a grin. Then, before they could react, with a single spell, she defeated all thirteen of them.

Her feat was the first of its kind and brought with it almost instantaneous fame. I must admit, disarming thirteen grown wizards, was indeed quite amazing, but the fact that it was brought about by a string of practical joke on defenseless muggles made it shameful to our line.

'On my mother's side, yes' I finally replied.

'She traces back to Helga Hufflepuff,' Willow affirmed. 'Greatness is in your blood.'

'If you say so' I replied flippantly as I turned away from her to my own stack of books.

'It is' she said, turning her whole frame toward me and concentrating her gaze to make it impossible for me to to anything but turn back to her. 'Your line is pure?'

I was a little hesitant to answer her. 'I believe so.'

'Than her power is in your blood. So is the power of many other witches and wizards. The purer the line, the stronger the wizard.' she asserted. 'It's the first step on the road to greatness.'

'Even if that's true that does not mean I will necessarily be great,' I said with a sigh.

Now, I don't lack self esteem. I am a decent witch, but when compared with Helga or even Alura, I am far from great. 'You have to do something with your power to be great,' I finished, somewhat defeated.

Willow nodded. 'It is true that greatness has to do with how one uses their power,' she agreed. 'There are people with little power who use it to achieve great things, half-bloods, muggleborns, who rise above their obvious limitations and bring greatness to their future bloodlines. And then, there are those who have greatness bestowed upon them by their blood, yet they do nothing with it. It's really quite a waste.'

I felt as if that was partially, if not wholly, directed at me. Perhaps she was right though. Maybe I was squandering the power I'd been given. I was descendant of Helga, of Alura. I had the potential to be better than average, perhaps even better than my sister, certainly as good. From that point on, that one encounter, I was no longer content being average. I was no longer content with merely admiring my sister. I was determined to bring myself greatness. I was determined not to squander the blood I had been given. I was only a first year. There was still time.

'You're right,' I agreed with a superior smile. 'It is a waste.'

'Yet still, you have to admit, those who have greatness in their line, in their blood, have more opportunities granted them than those who do not. They have more opportunities to recognize and establish their greatness. So greatness is still mostly in the blood. And, of course,' she added with a smirk, 'in the connections.'

After such an inspiring conversation, I soon realized that Willow would be an asset to me. She spurred my mind, gave me the will to achieve my potential. It was a while before she felt the same about me though.


End file.
